


Red Treasure

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related: redice, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 02:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Yuri's death in "Red Ice" Jim must deal with some unexpected dangers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Treasure

## Red Treasure

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Summary: After Yuri's death in "Red Ice" Jim must deal with some unexpected dangers and developments. 

NOTES: First appeared in CTYS 10 in October 1998 and published by Mysti. 

* * *

Red Treasure  
by Grey 

The sharp clash of metal jerked Blair from his sleep, his whole body prepared to run for the woods to evade indiscriminate gunfire, bullets everywhere and nowhere. After a few anxious moments reality translated to the clink of metal pots and pans in the kitchen. 

Jesus, Jim. 

Swallowing hard, his body relaxed only slightly, his heart still racing and his throat tight from the caged scream. Stomach muscles rebelled, twitching with a tough mix of left over adrenaline and fear. Panic, his old friend, needed more taming. 

Still exhausted, he rolled over and groaned into his pillow. When the level of cleaning reached rearranging the cookware stage with full volume sound effects, he knew he needed to get up and take Jim in hand. Sitting up, he pushed back his tangled curls while reaching over to grab his crumpled jeans from the night before. A wave of dizziness engulfed the light and he stalled, bracing himself on the bed until he could see again. Temples still throbbing, he listened in on running water and the almost frantic opening and closing of cabinet doors. Shaking off the ragged ache of fatigue, he steeled himself to find out the problem. Pulling on his pants, he zipped up and headed for the kitchen. Once there, he watched in bewilderment as Jim scrubbed each and every pan, then dried it before it putting it in one of the neat rows and stacks. 

"Hey, Jim. What the hell's going on, man?" 

Without turning around, Jim continued his project while he spoke. "Just getting organized, Chief. Things are just way out of control around here." 

"Yeah? What things?" 

"This whole kitchen. Just look at the cabinet linings. Do you have any idea how much dirt gets in there in a whole year?" 

"Man, are you like serious here?" 

"Sentinel sight's a pain in the ass when it comes to seeing filth all around you, Sandburg." 

"Jim, it's four o'clock in the morning. We didn't even get home from Delta house until after one. Can't this wait 'til later?" Yawning, Blair crossed his arms around his chest and leaned against the support beam, the whole time watching his hyperactive partner battle unseen chaos in the kitchen. He saw clean, while Jim saw threat. Blair smiled weakly at the strange sense of balance, the odd notion that both men had part of it right. If his head stopped pounding long enough, he might even laugh out loud. Instead, he just wanted to go back to bed, pull a pillow over his face, and sleep without dreaming. 

Stopping for the first time since his guide's arrival, Jim turned around and stared at his disheveled, very haggard partner. "Sorry, Chief. I didn't mean to wake you. I couldn't sleep anyway, so I thought I'd do something about all this mess." 

"What's the deal? Hospitals aren't this clean, man." 

"Hardly. Why don't you go on back to bed? I'll keep the racket down. Don't you have classes tomorrow?" He rinsed off a skillet and dried it while talking. 

"Yeah, I do, but this is like too weird. Why don't you just stop all that for a minute. Come on over to the couch and tell me what's really going on in that head of yours." 

"I don't have time, Sandburg. You need your sleep though. Now, go on. You look about ready to drop where you stand." Running some more scalding water into the sink, Jim kept his back to his partner. Blair watched the tense ripples run up and down both sides of his friend's shoulders. 

"Man, just stop, okay? You're starting to make me really uneasy here. What's going on? Talk to me." He rubbed his temple, the persistent sharp stabs growing more than annoying. 

"There's nothing to talk about." This time weariness weighed down the words, each one a little slower than the one before it. He stood a moment before he dried off his hands and then leaned forward on the counter, his arms braced against the edge. 

Moving to stand closer, Blair placed an open hand on the small of his friend's back. The slightest of shudders surprised him. Jim stepped away and went to the refrigerator, grabbing a beer. Raising the bottle he asked, "Want one?" 

"Sure. Okay." Puzzled by Jim's reaction, he tracked his movements while his partner handed him the bottle, removed his own cap, and then went to the couch to sit down. Decidedly nervous, the older man's jaw twitched and unclenched as he avoided making eye contact. 

Settling down on the sofa, he took a long swallow before he finally spoke. "I'm okay. There's no need to keep looking at me like that?" 

"Like what, man?" 

"Don't play innocent with me, Sandburg. It's that concerned look you get whenever you think I'm getting ready to jump off a cliff or something." 

"Is that what it feels like?" 

"I just said it didn't. I'm fine." 

"Yeah, right. You're having some obsessive-compulsive episode in the middle of the night because you're just terrific, super sentinel Jim, no problems. Sure, buddy, everything's cool." 

Half-grinning while the other half stayed grim, Jim took a drink while he shook his head. "Cleaning isn't an episode, Chief." 

"It is the way you do it. Look, man, level with me. Does this have anything to do with this whole Yuri deal?" He held the chilled beer bottle, the moisture making his palms wet and clammy. The strong smell flip-flopped his stomach, so he put the drink on the table. 

Pausing before he answered, Jim closed his eyes. A few moments later he opened them again and stared out, lids squinted. His voice tightened as he spoke, each word taut and crisply formed. "I hate all this FBI, CIA double-crossing government bullshit. Every time I think of Mulroney standing there in my face lying, I want to pound him into the fucking ground." 

"Whoa, man. How pissed are you?" 

"Pissed enough that it's a good thing there were witnesses around. I wanted to kill the sorry bastard." 

"Come on. You don't really mean that do you, man?" 

"Yeah, I do. I wanted Yuri to stand trial for what he did, both here and down in Peru. Mulroney stopped that. Hell, he knew what was going down all along. The only surprise was that we didn't all die in the process. Son of a bitch doesn't deserve to be in charge of his own ass much less any government operations." 

Scooting closer on the sofa, Blair placed a hand on Jim's knee as he started to speak. Before he could say anything, the larger man jerked away, standing and walking to the window. Shocked by the retreat, the grad student noticed the quick breathing and flushed skin. "Jim, man, what's going on? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off somehow and not know it?" 

"I'm just a little wired right now. Can't settle down. It's not you, Blair, it's me. This whole business of being manipulated one more time by the government just pushed a lot of buttons. I mean, every time the feds get involved, it's one more fucking disaster." 

"Are you sure that's all that's bothering you, man? Like you said this isn't the first time the government's pretty much fucked you over. Nothing new there. So, why all the rage now?" 

"Maybe because enough's enough. You don't understand. I served this country. Trained and fought and nearly died. Watched good men die only to find out they died because we'd been betrayed by one of our own. I've been screwed over too many times for it to just slide off anymore. It's driving me crazy." 

"So, what are you going to do about it?" 

"What can I do? That's the thing. Maybe I wouldn't be standing here about ready to explode and beat the hell out of a brick wall if I thought there was something to do about all this shit. The thing is, there's nothing I can do. It's just so damn hard to accept." 

"And that's why you're up in the middle of the night cleaning and organizing the kitchen?" 

Rather sheepishly, Jim nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's pretty lame, I guess, but if I can get things in order, I can maybe feel like I've got some kind of control over something. Besides, the gyms are all closed and it's raining again." 

"And that's why the pots take a whipping instead of the punching bag?" 

"Yeah, something like that." 

"Sounds like displaced aggression. And you're right, man. That's probably a lot healthier for a cop than a federal murder charge. Just as long as it's not my face you're hammering, it's cool I guess." 

Jim's small grin suddenly faded, his face grim. "Why would you even say that, Chief?" 

"What?" 

"Say I'd hit you?" 

"I didn't say that. I was just kidding, man. It was a joke." 

Finishing off his beer, Jim shook his head. "Not a very good one, Sandburg." 

"Sorry, man, but my sense of humor left hours ago, about the same time that Yuri started shooting explosive rounds through the doorway and people started falling all around my ass." 

"Yeah, I know. Sorry. God, I can't believe you were right there in the middle of all that shit, again. You could've been killed." The cracking, uneven tone of his voice brought Blair's eyes to his. "You should never have been there." 

"Jim, I wasn't alone, man. All of us, Micki, you, me, any of the others could've taken one of Yuri's bullets any time. The whole thing was a nightmare, but it's over. There's no use talking about it now. Yuri's dead." 

"Maybe." 

"Maybe? You really think he could've survived that fall, man? Did you see that drop?" 

"Up close and personal. I watched his face all the way down. He was as surprised as I was. I don't think he thought he could die." 

"Most sociopaths don't, or at least that's what all the books say." 

"You know many sociopaths, Chief?" 

"A few. I'd just as soon not make a list at the moment. It's hard enough to sleep with this Russian assassin deal without throwing the run of the mill Lash and Brackett in the mix." 

Shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut, the young man worked to block out the tumble of images running rampant, the candles, the chains, the gun to his head. God, he hated remembering. 

A slight shift on the cushion brought his attention back to the present. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to remind you. My brain's AWOL all of a sudden." Jim slouched beside him, his shoulders slumped, the exhaustion telling in the drawn lines of his stern face. 

"It's okay, man. We're both pretty well wasted, which I do believe was my point a few minutes ago. Why don't we both go to bed and talk about all this stuff in the morning?" 

"It's already morning." 

"No joke. I mean later in the morning, much later. Though I do have to be up by 8 if I'm going to make my 9 o'clock class." 

"An hour? You planning on teleporting to school?" 

"All right, 7:30 then, but man, I have got to get some sleep. My eyes are crossing even as we speak." 

"Then you'd better get to it. I'll just put away the rest of the dishes and turn in." 

"Just leave it 'til morning. I promise not to tell Simon about your sad excuse for good housekeeping." 

"This is going to sound crazy, Blair, but I really need to put the stuff away. I'll know it's down here all out of order." 

The young man shook his head, too tired to be totally amused. "I wonder if this obsessive-compulsive deal is a sentinel thing or just a Jim thing." 

"Is there a difference?" 

"Good point. You want me to help?" Seeing Jim's reluctant reaction brought up his hand. "Never mind. Don't tell me. You have to have it just right, so you might as well do it yourself. No problem, like I want to do the Mr. Clean scenario in the middle of the night. Later, man." 

Heading for a quick bathroom run, Blair listened as the sounds from the kitchen started again much more quietly than before. He couldn't help but smile as he wondered what else would need cleaning or rearranging the next time an assassin came to town. 

* * *

"Jim, I need to see you in my office." 

The detective put his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone before he called over the din of the bullpen. "What is it, Simon? I'm in the middle of running down a lead on the Trane case." 

"Just hang up and get in here, Ellison. We've got a problem." Simon put his cigar back in his mouth and headed to his desk while he waited for his friend to follow. 

Jim came through the door, a file in his hand, his forehead creased as he read. "What's going on, sir?" 

"Shut the door and sit down, Jim. We need to talk about what happened last night." Suddenly on guard, his back straighter, Jim followed orders. Putting the file on the table, still saying nothing, his hand rubbed his lips as he waited. "Well? Are you going to tell me what you were thinking going after Mulroney like that?" 

"You know what I was thinking, sir. He's an asshole who almost got my partner and a lot of others killed for no reason." 

"You know Mulroney's not really running things. He just followed orders." 

"Do I know that? Sure, but that doesn't mean I have to like being lied to or having my partner shot at." 

"He could bring you up on charges." 

"He won't." Jim stared away from his captain, flashes in his mind replaying the events of the previous day. Blair lay behind the couch, his warm thigh against his back, his strong scent teasing Jim's nostrils. The racing heart beats played like brilliant drum solos numbing his ears to all other sounds. The urgency and dependence hooked into his very skin, the need and absolute confidence in those dark blue eyes rocked his very soul, trembled his defenses. 

He blinked several times to block out the disturbing images. No way did he want to think of his friend like that. Instead he refocused on his captain's disgruntled voice. 

"How can you be so sure?" 

"Have there been any calls, any papers to indicate there's a problem?" 

"Nothing like that, no, but the Bureau did call about you and Sandburg making your statements. They want you over there this afternoon to do the paperwork." 

"Paperwork? Now that surprises me." 

"Why? This is the government we're talking about, Jim. You blow your nose and there's a form to fill out." 

"For a government sanctioned murder? Usually they want to bury something like this as fast as they can with no paper trail." 

"Murder? Come on, man. Yuri was a killer. Mulroney took him out before he could shoot or kill anyone else. It wasn't like he shot some innocent. It wasn't by the book, sure, but it wasn't like a big loss either. It's a little hard to get too worked up over it." 

"He had a sniper take him out, Captain. Yuri should've been brought in. Thing is, he knew nothing would stick. It was politically convenient for Yuri to be dead so Russia and the US wouldn't have to do anything embarrassing like tell the truth about the conspiracy." 

Jim stood and walked over to the window, the anger swelling up, frustration tearing at his lungs. "I hate it, Simon. Some people in the government, my government, think they can do anything they damn well please and we can't do a thing about it." 

"I know that. You don't have to make it worse for yourself though. Putting yourself in more hot water with the feds doesn't help a damn thing. You don't need anymore aggravation in your life and neither does Sandburg. In case you didn't notice, he didn't look so good last night." 

Jim briefly glanced at his captain and turned back to the window. "I noticed. He didn't say much, but I could tell he's more rattled than he's saying." 

"Well, it's only natural. It's just I worry about him sometimes. He puts on a good show, I'll give the kid that, but he's still not trained for all this." 

"Hell, Simon, no one's trained to deal with guys like Yuri." 

"True. I guess, the best thing to do is get over there this afternoon, take care of the details, and then put it all behind you." 

Shaking his head, the strain tightened his words. "That's not easy to do. You don't realize how close Yuri came to killing us out there. He could've done that and not a single thing would be different in terms of how the government would handle it. Sweep it under the rug. Doesn't matter innocent people got shot or killed, just don't let anyone find out about it." 

The closeness of his captain's voice startled him. He hadn't heard him approach. "Jim, what's really going on here? You don't look like you slept at all last night. This isn't the first time we've dealt with government assholes. So what's so different about this one?" 

"Blair asked me the same question, and I couldn't really tell him, Simon. I'm not sure. Whenever I let myself think about how close I came to losing everything, I get so pissed, I can hardly stand it." 

"But you've been in danger before, almost killed. It's natural to be afraid." 

Hesitating a moment, his voice softened, Jim tried to put his jumbled feelings into words. "I wasn't afraid for myself." 

"Then what?" 

"It's Blair. I couldn't really protect him. He could be dead for no other reason than he was with me when the feds snatched us. I don't think I could live with myself if something like that happened." 

"He knows the risks. I don't get it. Where's this all coming from now? How is this different from all the other tough calls you two go through?" 

His back to his friend, Jim stared out across the city. No way could he say it out loud, a confession of love, a knife exposing his heart to the world. No way could he make it real with the most simple and most powerful of words. 

"I can't explain it. It just feels different." From the corner of his eye he saw Simon's confused expression. 

"Jim, did something else happen out there, something you're not telling me?" 

"Like what?" 

"I don't know. This just doesn't sound like you. Sure, you're always protective of the kid, and yeah, it's a damn shame Mulroney put you both at risk, but this could be a big problem. If you can't control this, maybe you should think about not letting Sandburg ride along. If the fear is out of hand, he could be more of a risk than a help." 

"I can't do that, Captain, especially now. It's when I get upset like this that I'm more likely to zone out. I need Blair there to help in case that happens." 

"Then you better find away to handle whatever this is that's changed. Maybe you just need some downtime." 

"I'm fine." 

"That's not the picture I see. After you do the paperwork this afternoon, why don't you take tomorrow off? That'll give you a three-day weekend." 

"What about the Trane case? I've got the lead narrowed down and only need to talk to one other witness. I might be able to close it by then." 

"Try to do that before going over to the federal building. Then take some time. If you don't mind another suggestion, you might try sleeping. It's probably not news if you've walked near a mirror, Jim, but you look pretty much like shit this morning." 

"Gee, thanks, Simon." 

"Seriously, get some rest. Things always look so much clearer when I'm not running on empty in the sleep department." 

"I'll try, but every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Blair pinned down behind that sofa while Yuri's blasting away." 

"Just try, Jim. I need you up and running top notch, not spinning around chasing your own tail here." 

Nodding as he picked up the folder to leave, Jim imagined someone else's tail he so wanted to chase. God, he needed to get some sleep. 

* * *

"Oh, man, I can't believe this. Shit." Blair threw the folders on his desk and dropped his backpack on the floor. The young man behind him shook his head. 

"Come on, Blair, man, it's not that bad." 

"Not that bad? Who are you kidding, Alan? Dr. Marshall showed up right in the middle of my class and just sat there taking notes. I can't fucking believe he'd do that. Why today of all days? I so did not need this." 

"Calm down. Maybe he heard how good you are in the classes and just wanted to check it out." 

Blair glanced over at his friend with a yeah and I'm Alice in Wonderland expression. "Not fucking likely, man. You know what Marshall thinks about me. He's had it in to get my grants canceled any way he can. He's the one guy on the committee who's actually told me he thinks I'm wasting my time with the sentinel studies. Now, he's there to monitor my classes just to see how good I am? Yeah, right. Damn, I should've been more prepared." He pulled out a leather tie and pulled his hair away from his face, securing the mass of curls at the back of his neck. He couldn't stand one more distraction while he worked to manage the persistent pain in his head, the throbbing growing stronger. Slumping down in his chair, he lowered his forehead to a raised hand. 

A hand touched his shoulder. "You okay, man?" 

"Yeah, just a headache. I didn't get much sleep last night. The last few nights actually. Anyway, I'm fine." 

"You feel like you've got a fever. Want some aspirin or something?" 

"Yeah, thanks." 

"Sure." Leaning back against the chair, Blair blinked several times to clear his fuzzy vision. A hot cup of coffee and a hand holding two tablets interrupted his line of sight. "Here, take these. Then you should just go home. Maybe you're getting that flu that's going around or something. To tell the truth, you look a little pale." 

"I feel pale, but I'm okay. Really." Blair popped the tablets in his mouth and followed with a deep drink of the warm brew. He put the mug on the table and asked, "Why do you suppose the guy was there, Alan? Has he been dropping by other classes or what?" 

"I don't know, man. But, it's not so bad is it? I'm sure your class went fine. It's always good." 

"Not today. I sucked big time. I'm usually organized, but today of all days, I was all over the place. I just didn't have time to get everything together." 

Pushing back a lock of blond hair, Alan smiled. "Yeah, you and your cop friend were out saving the world, huh?" 

The frown deepened as Blair looked away. "Don't even ask, man. Thing is, I should've been ready. If Marshall wants to haul my ass for being lousy, he has a right." 

"Fuck that, man. Don't be so modest. You're one of the best teachers around. An off day for you is better than the best one for most of the old farts around here." 

A loud throat clearing came from the doorway. A low gravely voice followed. "Mr. Youngman, I do hope by using the term 'old farts' you're not intending to suggest that the professors here have more than their share of hot air?" 

Standing, blushing to his pale ear tips, Alan muttered, "No, sir, Dr. Marshall." 

"Good. Glad to hear it. Now, I'd like to talk to Mr. Sandburg alone for a few minutes if you don't mind." 

"Yes, sir." Alan did a quick turn around, gave Blair a sympathetic frown, and then hurried out the doorway. 

As Blair started to stand, Marshall held up a hand. "Stay put, Mr. Sandburg. You look like you could use a little rest." 

"Thanks, sir. I am a little tired." 

"I can see that." Heading over to the coffee maker, the older man pointed at one of the mugs. "May I?" 

"Sure. Help yourself." As he watched Marshall pour himself a drink, Blair studied the confident movements. His stomach queasy, he wondered why one of the most important men in his department, a man who'd always shown only displeasure with him would be there to talk. "So, Dr. Marshall, what can I do for you this morning?" 

"Me? Oh, I'm not here about me, Blair. May I call you Blair?" He put some sugar and cream in the cup before stirring and sitting down in the chair vacated by Alan. 

"Sure. Blair's fine. So, what's going on?" 

"I just got a call early this morning from Dr. Ucinski. He wanted to know what I knew about this young man named Blair Sandburg. He'd heard some good things about you and wanted a second opinion." 

"Ucinski? THE Ivan Ucinski? 

Chuckling as he took a sip of coffee, Marshall's amused expression reddened. "The very same. Ivan and I are old friends. I've known him for ages." 

"Really? Man, that is so cool. He's the ultimate authority on closed societies of ancient subcultures of the far East. His papers are landmarks in anthropology." 

"Yes, I know." 

Blushing, his own enthusiasm barely contained, Blair struggled to control his hyper tongue. "So, why is Ivan Ucinski calling about me, sir?" 

"Enough of the sir stuff, Blair. Please. Call me Lawrence." 

"Lawrence?" Blair sat straighter, pushed back further in the chair, the sudden casual familiarity making him uneasy. "I'm not really sure I'm comfortable with that. I mean, you're one of my committee members and..." 

"It's okay. I understand, Blair. Wouldn't want to raise any eyebrows. But, if you want, when we're in private like this, you can use my name when you feel like it. The point is, Ivan called this morning and wanted to know about you because he'd been talking to your Dr. Stoddard." 

His chest ached, his breathing more difficult. "Dr. Stoddard? What did they talk about?" 

"Well, Ivan didn't tell me the whole story, but he did say that Dr. Stoddard had only praise for this brilliant young fellow named Sandburg. Ivan wanted to know if I agreed with that assessment." 

Taking a quick swallow, Blair averted his eyes, not sure if wanted to know the answer. Finally he gulped hard enough to speak. "And what did you tell him?" 

"Of course, I told him I agreed. You underestimate yourself. You're really quite good as a teacher, but as an anthropologist you're dazzling. Your papers always make for the most informative and accessible work on any subject you've entertained. That's not a common talent, being able to be both academically accepted and useful to the general reader as well." Leaning in slightly, his coffee-scented breath nearer, his husky voice sent chills through the younger man's arms. "I hope you don't mind I added that you were also one of the most gorgeous young men to come along in ages." 

Practically biting off his own tongue, Blair pulled away as far as he could without toppling over backwards. "I appreciate the comments about my work, but I'm not so sure about the other." 

"Aren't you? You really are quite lovely." 

As a hand reached over to touch him, Blair stood up and walked to the corner, his arms wrapped around himself. "I'm sorry. I don't really think this is appropriate." Tender tissue inside his memory tore open, flashing an ache weighing great chains around images he couldn't see. He closed his eyes to bar the long line of mental pictures of other unwanted touches parading through his thoughts. Biting his lower lip, the localized pain allowed him to refocus on the present colors and sounds around him. 

"Come on, Blair. I'm just asking for a little social contact. Nothing serious or permanent. Surely you can't object to the possibility of making a positive career move." 

"Yes, I can object, and I do. Whatever you have in mind is so not going to happen." 

Sitting back, sighing deeply, Dr. Marshall nodded. He took another drink and made no move to leave. "I understand, dear. I do. I just thought I'd make the offer. Can't blame a man for trying, and, it's not like it would be the first time you ever got the opportunity to advance with a little boost from a mentor." 

"What? What are you talking about?" The air around him thickened, the heat building painful pressure in the room. The words choked in his dry throat as they worked their way loose. 

"Dr. Stoddard, Blair. Ivan told me that he knew about you two. That's why he wanted a second opinion. Granted, you did your own work and got your grants on your own merits, but a recommendation by your old lover might be a bit biased. Ivan just wanted to check." 

Shaking his head, Blair leaned harder against the unyielding wall. He wanted more than anything to slide down, curl in a little ball, and pray that he could just wake up from some deep nightmare. "I don't know where your Ucinski got the idea about Dr. Stoddard and me, but he's wrong." 

"Wrong? I don't know, Blair. He seemed pretty sure, downright specific in fact." Dr. Marshall's expression altered, almost feral. "Be honest, Blair, just between the two of us, tell the truth. I promise it won't make a difference. It's not like I wouldn't understand completely. A teacher with a student, especially one so promising as yourself, well, it happens." 

Taking in the full impact of the words, Blair still resisted. "It's not true. Dr. Stoddard and I were never lovers. He was my mentor and a good friend, but it wasn't what you're thinking. I looked up to him like a father." 

"A father? You like older men then?" His greyish eyes sparkled, hopeful. 

"No, at least not that way. It wasn't like that. I don't have anything against that sort of thing, but it's not my deal." Taking a deep breath, Blair steeled himself to speak clearly, to handle the situation before he flew apart, even his skin tightened from the strain. "Look, what's all this got to do with Ucinski wanting to know about me?" 

Obviously disappointed, but refraining from pushing harder, Marshall finished off the coffee and rose to get some more. "He's mounting an expedition to China, some obscure, remote providence no doubt, and he wanted an assistant. Stoddard recommended you. Said you were the very best he ever had." A throaty laugh dirtied the words. "Perhaps that's how he got the impression that you were Stoddard's boy. I mean, everyone knows Stoddard's penchant for delicious young men with brains. I can't imagine you wouldn't know that." 

"What Dr. Stoddard does or doesn't do outside of his studies isn't my business." 

Blair flashed on all the times he'd seen his friend Tim come out of Stoddard's tent and hardened slightly by the jealous flare warring through him. God, he hated himself for even having such intense anger and hurt so many years later. He shook his head before he spoke. "Sir, I appreciate the fact that Ucinski might want me for his assistant, but I'm committed here. I'm still finishing up my doctorate. There's really no way I could go anyway." 

"Yes, I know. I told him that. Bad timing on his part really." Putting the cup down, Marshall stepped closer, his voice almost a whisper. "The thing is, I'm glad he called and let me in on this little secret you've been hiding." 

"Secret?" 

"I mean, I always suspected this thing with that cop you live with might be something more, but now the picture is so much clearer." 

Scooting along the wall, Blair stepped away only to have Marshall follow behind him. He jerked as the older man wrapped a large hand around his wrist stopping his retreat. "Listen, Blair, I'm not going to tell anyone, but I just thought we needed to come to some kind of understanding." 

Pulling his hand away didn't work, so Blair stared into the eyes, defiant. "Understand this, Marshall. Either take your hand off or the only understanding we'll have is going to be in front of the ethics committee." 

Releasing him and stepping away, Marshall shook his head. His words hissed, the anger barely contained. "Don't even threaten me, Sandburg. First of all, you haven't got the balls. Second, with you living with that cop friend of yours, he'd be the one most likely ruined by any hint of gay scandal. I have 20 years here, and you'd think about bringing me up on charges? Not fucking likely, my dear boy. I came here to offer to improve your position at the university. You don't want it, fine. But don't even think about reporting it, or your academic life is fucking over. Got that, sweetie?" 

Cringing at the name his mother always used, Blair snapped. "Just leave and I won't say anything. I really don't want any trouble." 

"Trouble? Hon, you don't even know the meaning. I could make your life here so easy, but if you choose to reject that, so be it, but don't think that I have to like it. Don't fuck with me, ever, or you're going to find out first hand what happens to a cocktease." 

"I never did that." 

"No? That's your story." Stepping in closer, the face muscles tight, the hoarse words carried like heavy fists across the short distance. "The offer's open. Change your mind, I can help you out. Stick with this I'm too good to let an old man touch you, and your easy life around here could get a hell of a lot harder, my young friend. You know the score. You're anything but stupid." 

"You need to leave, Dr. Marshall." 

"I'm leaving. For now. But don't think for a moment this is over." As Marshall grabbed his chin, he stood there, too stunned to pull away. Tilting his head up roughly, intense empty eyes met the younger man's. "Like I said, sweetie, you don't want to fuck with me unless you mean it." Quickly Marshal kissed his cheek, a tongue flicking his ear and then a sharp biting, hungry teeth jerking the earrings painfully. He pulled back as Blair fell against the wall holding the left side of his abused face. 

Laughing to himself, Marshall opened the door. "Later, Mr. Sandburg. I enjoyed our little discussion. It's been entertaining as always. Expect to see me around more often." 

The leer singed Blair's mind as he slammed the door shut and stumbled back to his chair. He rubbed his sore jaw and ear where the older man squeezed and bit him. "Oh, man, I can't believe this." 

Just as he reached for his back pack the phone rang. "Sandburg." His voice stuttered over his own name. 

"Chief? You okay?" 

"Jim? God, yeah, I'm fine. I was just busy, man. What's up? Something wrong?" 

"You might say that. We've got to both go make statements at the federal building at one. Can you make it?" 

His mind staggered through the confusion littering his baffled brain and settled on the night before. Chaos reigned and in his mind he ran, holding Micki's hand, fear charging his legs. A familiar impatient voice brought him back to reality. 

"You there, Chief?" 

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, do we have to? I'm really busy here." 

"I know it's a pain, but the sooner we do it, the sooner we can be done with the whole ugly business." 

Still shell-shocked, his brain numbed, he coughed a few times before finally forming words. "Sure, okay. I guess I'll be there around one then." 

"Want a ride?" 

"No, that's fine. I'll be there, man. Don't worry." 

"Don't worry? That's like telling it not to rain in Cascade, Chief." 

"I know, man, but it doesn't hurt to ask." 

"Don't be late. Me in the federal building without a keeper could be a problem." 

"Don't even joke, man." 

"Who's joking, Chief?" 

"Later, Jim. Just behave until I get there." Hanging up, Blair wet his dry lips and worked harder to suck in enough air to keep his vision from fogging over. "Man, I am like in so much trouble here." 

* * *

"Doesn't look like your partner's going to show, Ellison. Maybe I should send a team over to the university and escort him." Mulroney checked his watch again as Jim signed the last of his papers. 

"Forget about it, Mulroney. He'll be here. Something must have happened at school to hold him up. I mean, he does have a life beyond all this federal glamour." 

Mulroney focused on Jim's tight smirk. "You've been a pain in the ass from the beginning. I know you don't like me, but just hold the snide comments. You don't know the whole story and I'm not at liberty to tell you. You were covert ops. You know how the game works. Just cut the bullshit." 

Just as Jim rose, his body tense and ready to take Mulroney to a new level of action, Blair walked in the room, his gait unsteady. Jim stopped moving and took in the whole effect of his partner's disoriented appearance. Breathing too fast, his face flushed with an unusual redness, his eyes widened as he met Jim's. "Man, what's going on?" 

"Nothing, Chief. Where've you been?" Jim settled back down in the chair, concern for his friend's health growing even stronger. 

"Couldn't get the car started, man. I had to get a lift from Alan Youngman from the university. Then some asshole downstairs couldn't find my name on the list to let me up here. I've been standing down there trying to get him to call for the last ten minutes. This whole day sucks, man." Turning to Mulroney, Blair flashed a weak smile. "Nice suit, man, but the bozo downstairs has it beat. What's up with all the dumbfucks you people hire anyway?" 

Astounded by Blair's uncharacteristically blunt behavior, Jim cleared his throat and reached over to pull his young friend to a chair. "Sit down, Chief. Let's get this thing over with and get you home." 

"I'm down with that. What dance do I need to do this time?" 

Mulroney crossed his arms, the frown creasing his forehead. "I'll get someone in here to take your statement. Then you can sign it." He shook his head as he stepped to the door. "You've been hanging around cops too long, Mr. Sandburg. You're beginning to sound like one." 

As the door shut, Jim turned to his partner, his hand on the back of Blair's chair. "What the hell's going on? What's wrong with you?" 

"Nothing, man. I'm just tired." 

"Tired? Tell me another story, Sandburg. I've seen tired before and it's more than that. You've never, and I mean never, talked to a fed like that before. What's going on?" 

Taking a deep breath, Blair pushed a wayward strand back behind his ear, his eyes averted. "Like I said, I'm just tired. Besides, wasn't it you at about four this morning saying the same thing about stupid feds?" 

"Yeah, but that wasn't here and you're not me. You've always been the one to play nice with the feds even if you don't like them, so what's going on?" Jim nose tickled for a moment at a familiar scent just lying under the strong whiff of mint. He stared in amazement at his guide. "Shit, Chief. You've been drinking." 

"No way, man. Nope, not me." Blair shook his head, denying it with wild waves of his hands and without making eye contact. 

"Jesus, Blair. What's going on?" 

"It was just some wine with lunch. Honest. That's not really drinking, is it? Alan and I, well, I had a really rotten morning and we went to eat, but I wasn't really hungry, and then the next thing I knew we were having another bottle and then I was late and that asshole downstairs wouldn't let me come up here and, oh, man, I don't feel so good, Jim." 

Jim's anger quickly changed to frantic apprehension when Blair's pale face literally changed to a slight greenish tint. "Come on. Let's get you to the rest room." 

"I don't think I can make it. Oh, shit." Leaning over, he retched into the nearby waste can, the sudden stench of bile and red wine filling the room. Choking on the smell, Jim dialed down quickly and sprang into action. Supporting his limp friend, he held him until the heaving eased up. "Here, Chief, hang onto the table while I get a wet towel or something." 

A weak hand held his wrist. "Man, I'm sorry." 

"Don't worry about it now, Blair. We'll talk later. Just hold on." He stepped into the hallway and stopped Mulroney as he reached for the door. "Don't go in there. My partner's not well. I'm getting some towels and then he's going home. We'll do this statement some other time. Got that." As if to punctuate the statement another wave of loud gagging sounds came from the other side of the doorway. 

Mulroney winced and nodded. "That's fine, Ellison. Get the guy out of here as soon as he stops barfing up his stomach. Jesus, that stinks. Hell, you might also look into some rehab programs. Looks like your hippie partner might need one." 

Anger rushed though him, his whole body ready to rip the man apart. Only the need to help his guide kept him focused enough to retrieve a damp towel and return to the room. Blair slumped forward, his head resting precariously on the edge of the table. His breathing came in ragged gasps as he tried to swallow enough air to hold him through the next round of vomiting. "Oh, man, Jim. This is so embarrassing." 

"Yeah, well, that's the least of your problems, Chief. Take slow breaths. Here. Wipe your mouth." 

Taking the cloth, minding sheepishly, he asked, "How's that?" 

"Well, you've still got to make a statement. Plus after you're sobered up and rested, you're going to tell me what this is really all about." 

"Oh, man, this sucks." Another round rocked his whole body as he jerked forward once again, this time the spasms only bringing up moans and empty air. 

"Yeah, Chief. I hear that." 

* * *

Sitting in the chair beside his partner's bed, Jim watched as Blair slept, the slow breathing a simple form of comfort. The earlier behavior disturbed him, but not as much as the thought that whatever caused it must be pretty bad. Blair got rattled and upset, but rarely turned to drinking. The slightest shift in breathing alerted him to his partner's slow waking. After a few minutes, he leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. "Hey. How you feeling?" 

"Like I should've ducked faster. Man, what hit me?" 

"A couple of bottles of Chianti looks like." As Blair struggled to sit up, he reached out and supported his back. "You need to go to the bathroom?" 

The younger man brushed off Jim's hand while he slid his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm okay, man. I can do it." His arms and shoulders shook as he braced himself against the mattress. "God, I feel awful." 

"Yeah, well, your lack of tolerance for alcohol is pretty legendary. Why don't I go make some coffee and when you're done in the bathroom, we'll talk." 

"Okay, man." Blair lifted his head, his blood shot eyes too painful to look at too long. "I'm really sorry about all this, Jim." 

"Go to the bathroom, Chief. Take a shower. We'll talk when you're cleaned up. Okay?" 

"Sure. Whatever." Dragging himself up, Blair stumbled to the bathroom and shut the door. 

A little later Jim stood in the kitchen, his arms wrapped around his waist while he listened to the rush of water ending. He dialed down so he couldn't hear the dressing sounds, the rub of cloth against his partner's sleek chest hair, the zip of jeans, the cotton rolling down across his firm shoulders. Biting his lower lip, he fought back the urge to touch himself while thinking about touching Blair all over. 

"Hey, Jim. The coffee ready?" 

Opening his eyes, he moved the mugs closer while he poured out the drinks. "Better?" 

"Yeah, some." Taking the cup, Blair walked over and sat down on the couch, tucking his legs under him. Settled there, he pushed back the damp curls as they dried clean and springy around his face, a dark halo to his newly shaved skin. 

Following, Jim sat down beside him and remained silent while he sipped his coffee. After a few moments, his friend finally started to talk, his voice low and not quite steady. "Like I said, I'm sorry about this afternoon. It was stupid. I don't usually drink much, you know that." 

"Yeah, I do. So, you ready to talk about it?" 

"Not much to say really. I fucked up. So, what else is new?" 

"Not good enough. Truth here. This is about more than that. Is it about Yuri?" 

Glancing up, his eyes puzzled, Blair shook his head. "No, not really. I mean, sure that scared me. Son of a bitch almost killed us. I guess I should be used to that by now though, huh?" 

"You never get used to it, Chief." 

"You do." 

"Yeah, right. Guess that's why the kitchen is ready for inspection by Martha Stewart anytime now." 

Grinning, Blair chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I forgot about that." 

"Don't laugh too loud. I wasn't the one puking my guts out in the federal building a few hours ago. Between barfing and cleaning, I'd rather do pots and pans anytime." 

Smile gone, Blair frowned, shifting uneasily on the cushion. "Yeah, I know. But, it's not like I do this on a regular basis. I was just upset and lost count of the drinks. I never did tolerate wine anyway." 

"So, back to the original question, what's going on?" 

Blair leaned over and put the coffee cup on the table and then settled back into the corner of the sofa. After a few deep breaths his voice came out tense but even. "You've got to promise not to get too pissed, man." 

The back of his neck tightened, his body's ready reaction barely contained. "Pissed? Why would I get pissed?" 

"Well, I know how you are in hyper protector mode and I'm afraid when I tell you about what happened today, you're going to go ballistic." 

"Shit, Sandburg. Just tell me." 

Holding a hand to his head, Blair squeezed his eyes shut. "Man, don't yell. My head is about to explode here." 

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry about that, but I just haven't had the best day ever either." 

Jim watched as his friend's eyes opened slowly, blue eyes meeting his. "I know, man. Sorry. Okay, man, it's this guy at school, a Dr. Marshall." 

"Yeah, what about this guy named Marshall?" 

"He came on to me today." 

"Came on to you? You mean like came on to you sexually?" His brain sagged at trying to handle the idea of a man bothering his partner. The punch at his temples squinted his eyes, but he stayed seated while he listened. 

"Yeah." Blair fingers twiddled nervously as both hands locked together. "He sort of made it pretty clear that he thinks I'm gay and that he's interested." 

"Son of a bitch." Jim jumped up, his body wired, each muscle stretched across itchy bones. He paced several times in front of the window, his fists tight, clenching and unclenching. 

"I told him I wasn't interested." 

"I should fucking hope so. Damn." Stopping, Jim turned and watched his friend, the shoulders slumped, the face drawn and unhappy. "Chief, did he threaten you?" 

"Well, yes and no." 

"It's one or the other, Blair. Which is it?" 

"He said that if I complained, he'd make a lot of trouble for me at the university. Jim, the guy's on my dissertation committee and one of my advisors." Blair played with a wayward string on the covering on the back of the sofa, his eyes unfocused. 

Jim sat down, his position right in front of him, watching carefully as his partner continued to keep from making eye contact. His sentinel senses registered the racing heart beats and the quick breathing. "This Marshall's the same guy who gave you trouble last spring on your study, right?" 

"Yeah, he is. The guy's been at the school forever. I just told him I wanted to be left alone." 

"And?" 

"And, I got the feeling he was pissed when he left." 

Suddenly sentinel sight tunneled in on his guide's chin. Reaching out carefully, Jim noted the slight flinch as he gently examined Blair's face. "There's bruising here, Chief. What did he do? Did he touch you?" Reluctantly he took his hand away while his friend talked. 

"Nothing, man. It's no big deal." 

"Tell me." 

"He just grabbed me too hard while he kissed me. I was just surprised and didn't react fast enough to get away." 

"Bastard." Glancing one more time at the bruise, he reached over and touched the skin gently, his fingers wispy over the whiskers. Fighting down the urge to abuse the man who hurt his guide, Jim worked to keep his voice calm. Practice allowed for a soothing police tone. "But he didn't hurt you otherwise, did he?" 

"No, man, not really." 

"Not really? What do you mean not really? What else did he do?" 

"It's not like it's a major thing, Jim. He just bit my ear." 

"Bit your ear? Son of a bitch." Flabbergasted by the gall of the man, Jim balled his fists and slammed one into the back of the sofa. "I can't fucking believe he bit you. Where the hell does the bastard get off?" The rage bubbled up like tiny exploding monsters, his vision blurring red haze. 

"It's okay, man, settle down. It's no big deal. It just threw me, that's all. I was already out of it with the Yuri deal and then this thing with Marshall topped it off. Guess that's why when Alan suggested the Italian place, I didn't mind so much. I couldn't stay there. I kept thinking he might come back." 

"Did he threaten to do that?" Jim controlled his breathing, his anger caged, but untamed. 

"Yeah, well, maybe. I don't think he meant it, but I just couldn't think straight. I mean, this all came out of nowhere, man." 

Resting his body on the back of the couch, Jim rubbed his lips a few times, his mind racing with options for Marshal solutions, none too pleasant. "So, what do you plan to do?" 

"I don't know, man. That's the thing. My stomach's a mess because I can't decide. I know I should turn him in, but it could cause so many problems. I don't know if I could handle all of it." 

"What kind of problems?" 

"Jim, face it. He could turn it around and say I made a pass at him. It's only his word against mine, and he's got the advantage. Besides, even the hint that I might be gay could be a disaster." 

"Chief, this isn't the dark ages." 

"You don't understand, man. If people think I'm gay, and they know I live with you, guess what else they're going to think, man." 

Shit. "So, you're saying you're afraid they'll think we're a couple?" 

"Yeah. Man, you're a cop. You know the stories about what happens to gay cops, the harassment, the incredible discrimination. I don't want to risk that." 

"Fuck that. What the hell do I care what people think? You can't let this puke get away with this shit. Turn his ass in." 

"You don't understand." 

"Look, that's the second time you've said that, and it's starting to piss me off. What is it I don't understand, Sandburg? You think I don't know about blackmail, about sexual harassment in the work place, what?" 

"Jim, he thinks I'm gay for a reason, man." 

The air left the room and only returned after Jim's hearing slowly recovered. "What? What the hell are you talking about?" 

"It's a long story, but there's this guy named Ucinski and he talked to Dr. Stoddard about me as a possible assistant on one of his expeditions to China." 

Before Jim could interrupt, Blair raised a hand. "Wait a minute. Don't worry. I'm not interested. Anyway, Ucinski knows Marshall and apparently told him that Dr. Stoddard suggested that I was his lover at one time." 

"What? That's crazy. Stoddard's an old guy, right?" 

"Not that old. He's only a few years older than you." 

"Well, hell, so what? It still doesn't make any sense. Why would Stoddard say that?" 

"I don't think he did, but most people in the anthropology circle know that Dr. Stoddard's gay and he usually picks one guy out of his team to sleep with while he's on a site." 

Swallowing hard, trying to keep the lumps down out of his throat, Jim voice choked out the words. "And you were this guy when you were with him?" 

"No, actually I wasn't, but it wasn't because I didn't want to be." 

Sinking back, the shocks almost too much, Jim shook his head. "I'm confused here, Chief." 

"Yeah, well, you have to understand. Dr. Stoddard, well, I really liked him. I would've done anything for him, but he wouldn't let me be with him because he said I was doing it for the wrong reasons, that I was sexually confused." 

"Score one for the doctor." 

"Not funny, Jim." 

"I wasn't joking, Chief." Jim leaned forward, scanning his partner's face for any clue to guide him through the fog surrounding the whole issue. He cleared his throat, his voice hoarse from the effort to keep from screaming. "Well, was he right?" 

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, at the time it really upset me because he picked Tim over me, but later I realized that he had a point. I wanted to be with him because I was lonely and grateful. I mean, he wasn't like some of the other older guys around. He treated me with respect, didn't try to touch me." 

"Touch you? You mean other professors have acted like Marshall?" 

"Some, yeah. Marshall's not the first or the worst guy to ever put the moves on." 

"Shit." 

"I know. I don't want to talk about all that right now. But Dr. Stoddard was different, man. He was such a great guy and I respected him. It was hard seeing him with someone else. Anyway, I guess the point is, I've slept with guys since then. Girls, too. I'm not confused, just bisexual." 

"Shit, Chief. You may not be confused, but I sure as hell am. Damn. I can't believe this." 

"I'm sorry it bothers you." 

"What bothers me is that you didn't tell me. Why keep it a secret? Are you ashamed or something?" 

"Of course not, but it's not exactly a great conversation starter and it's not something I spread around." 

"Spread around? Fuck, Sandburg, I'm your partner. You should've told me, not just about Stoddard either, about everything." 

"Don't be pissed. I haven't been with a guy for a long time. Let's face it, being with a man instead of a woman is a lot of hassle. I just didn't see the point of bringing it up if it wasn't going to be an issue." 

"Yeah, but if it's the right guy, it might be worth it. Maybe that's why you haven't been able to find the right woman. You should've been looking for the right man." 

"Be serious." 

"I'm dead serious, Chief." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah, really. But, let's forget about that whole barrel of monkeys for a minute and concentrate on this Marshall prick. I think I should go talk to the good professor, explain the legal points of harassment and threatening behaviors." 

"Jim, I'd rather you not do that. I want to handle this myself." 

"But you're not handling it. You're getting drunk and trying to pretend like it's not a problem. It is a problem, a big one. We can solve it together, if you'll let me help you." 

"Promise not to kill him?" 

"Sure. Hell, I'm a cop. I know the law." 

"I know, but you also know all the best places to bury the bodies." 

"And that's a bad thing?" 

"Oh, man." 

* * *

"Stay in the truck, Chief." 

"No way, man. I'm going in with you." 

Jim slammed the door shut before getting out, the steady rain dripping down from the edge of the window. "Listen to me, Blair. I don't want you in there right now. This guy harassed you and I don't want you near him until I've got this thing straightened out." 

Blue eyes, softened but determined, stared back. "I know you think you're doing the right thing here, but I need to go with you." 

"No, you don't. It's better if you stay out here." 

"Argue all you want, but I need to go in there, too. First of all, if I'm not there he could falsely accuse you of something like hitting him or terrorizing him. He's not above doing that. Plus, this whole thing started because of me. I agreed to let you step in, but now I'm not so sure that was a good idea." 

"Don't back out on me now. We're partners. This kind of guy only keeps coming back as long as he has the power. We're just going to make sure he loses that." 

"How do you plan to do that?" Blair rubbed his forehead, the tension creasing his brow. 

"By making him withdraw from your committee. Then he won't be able to retaliate or use any of this against you." 

"What makes you think he'll withdraw?" 

"Oh, he will, believe me." 

Shaking his head wearily, Blair moaned. "Jesus, Jim, what did you do?" 

Jim grinned at the memory of the payload he'd discovered by doing a search of the police files. He owed Brown a huge favor if the information paid off. 

"Nothing bad. I just had a little check run on our Dr. Marshall and discovered you aren't the first guy he's tried to hustle. Plus there's a little item about possession in another city that I'll bet the university knows nothing about." 

"That's sounds an awful lot like blackmail." 

"Does it? Sounds like just stating the facts." Jim shifted and braced his back to watch his guide fidget around uneasily in the truck. "Look, if the good doctor wants to play games with threats, he'd better not leave ammunition around for the opposition." 

"It just doesn't feel right, man. I don't like it." 

"Come on, Chief. Just stay in the truck." 

"No. I'm still coming with you." 

"Have it your way then, but let me do the talking." Jim grabbed the door handle and opened it while he glanced to see Blair getting out from the other side. 

"You mean let you do the threatening." 

"T words, Chief. I'll handle it." 

They moved together up the wet walkway to the front porch of the house, the rain leaving large drops on Blair's dark hair. Jim rang the doorbell as he tried not to focus too closely on the glinting light playing off the tiny rainbows around the edge of each wet speck. Instead he adjusted his senses to listen in on the sounds behind the door. 

"Hey, isn't that Marshall's car?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Why?" 

"Well, there's no one inside breathing. I'm just wondering what's going on." 

"Maybe he got a ride somewhere." 

"Yeah, maybe." His sense of smell tickled his nose and painted the back of his throat rusty. Shit. 

"If it weren't Saturday, we could probably catch him at the university. Guess we'll have to wait until Monday." 

"I think we have another problem." He reached behind his back and drew his gun. "Stay here while I check something out." Using the edge of his jacket, he found the door unlocked. 

"Oh, man, what's going on, Jim?" 

"I don't know, but nothing good. Promise me. Stay here." 

"Sure, man. Okay." He glanced to see his partner's worried face watching him. "Be careful." 

"Always." 

Once inside the front hall, he didn't have to work too hard to find the body of Marshall face down in a pool of his own blood. The back of his head, pretty much bone and red mush, covered the antique rug with a whole new pattern. Staying in full police mode he scanned the area briefly and then called out. "Sandburg, go back to the truck and call in a homicide at this address." 

"Shit." Blair's presence came with a loud hiss as Jim saw his friend cringe at the gruesome scene. His features paled more as he covered his mouth, a useless attempt to block the smell. 

"Go on back outside, Chief. I need you to call it in while I go over the place. My phone's in the truck." 

As he turned to leave, Blair stopped a moment and then asked, "What's going on? Who'd want to kill Marshall?" 

Jim shrugged, regretting the detective slant of his own mind. "Well, I can think of two people right off the bat, but otherwise, we might have to go looking. Now, go on, call it in." 

"Man, are you serious? We'll be suspects?" 

"Chief. Go. The longer we wait, the worse it is." 

Paler still, he left, muttering to himself. "Oh, man, this sucks." 

As Jim did another sensory scan of the room, he found himself riveted to the table near Marshall's head. A silver medallion lay there, the crossed swords on its surface stabbing his memory with spiked pain. "Fuck. What the hell's Khan doing in Cascade?" 

Ice froze his skin, his heart skipping in an airless world. "Blair." Running out the doorway, he got to the open in time to see his partner behind the wheel of his truck talking on his cell phone, safe. A dirty finger scratched the back of his thoughts. Two international assassins, both with Ellison connections, showing up in a US town in less than a week made for a scary picture. Trying to recall old memories, he struggled to find the link between Yuri and Khan. 

Just as he stepped near the truck to check on the ETA, he saw the small white paper wedged in the narrow slit of the hood. Pulling out the soaked package, he opened it to find a simple message. "First Round." Then he heard the shot that exploded his world into instant chaos. 

* * *

"It's okay, Jim. He's going to be all right." Simon nudged his detective's shoulder as he handed him the hot coffee. 

"I can't believe this, Simon." 

He put the cup on the table and shook his head. Dropping his face into his hands, he rubbed hard to wipe away the images of blood-filled terror, the bullet wound through healthy flesh, the slowing vital signs screaming and replaying for his own private hell. The breathy moan as his best friend lay in his arms losing his battle to stay conscious ground against his nerves, wearing and shredding his tenuous control. 

"I've got to find this guy, but I can't leave Blair alone here." 

"He won't be alone. He's got around the clock protection. Besides, how can you be so sure this is the guy you think it is? I mean, who is this Khan anyway?" Keeping his voice low, Simon sat down beside him, his leg touching and his body leaning in close. 

"I told you, Simon. The medallion is Khan's signature just like the two Russian coins were Yuri's. The two men must be connected somehow. The note makes me think they might have been partners and Khan wants payback. He must think I killed Yuri and now he wants to kill Blair for revenge." 

"But, Jim, if that's true, Blair should be dead, not just wounded." 

"Unless he wanted it to be a warning, to let me know he could take either of us at anytime." The impact of the words froze both men into silence. Finally, Jim stood up and ran a hand back over his hair. "I have to find him before he finishes what he started." 

His captain moved to stand and take his arm. "We need to call in the feds on this. You said Khan worked out of Europe mostly. CIA might have some information to help us catch him." 

"Do what you want, but this guy is mine. He comes for Blair again and he's going through me. I don't plan for that to happen. Just as soon as he can leave, I'm taking Blair some place I know I can protect him." 

Shaking his head, pulling Jim over to the far corner of the waiting room, Simon whispered, "You can't do this by yourself, Jim. This guy's a pro." 

"So am I, sir. Plus, I have an edge." Jim's steely blue eyes met the dark concerned ones staring right at him. His voice sharp with determination cut the air. "You can help all you want, Simon. Bottom line though, Khan's mine." Pulling his arm away, he started for the door. 

"Just be careful." 

"Right. Just tell Mulroney or anyone else who shows up to stay out of my way." 

Heading down the corridor, he made it to Blair's room, the guard recognizing him as he approached. "Detective Ellison. The nurse just came out. He's alone now." 

"Thanks, Jamison. Just remember, he's my partner. Nobody gets in or out of here without clearance. Got that?" 

"Don't worry, sir. Everybody on duty knows that. We've got extra volunteers for the roster." 

Jim briefly studied the intense young man standing there, his stance both professional and alert. He nodded in approval. "Thanks. I appreciate it." 

"No, problem. We protect our own, sir." 

He grinned, knowing Blair would treasure the inclusion into such a closed society. Pushing open the door, his smile faded. His guide lay quietly, the monitor beeping beside him, the pallor of his skin made worse by the overhead lights. The bright white bandage on his left arm stood out just above the covers pulled up around him. Fanning out around his head, the dark brown curls wove a gauzy pattern over the starkness of the pillow. Stepping closer, he braced himself against the bed rail and bit his lower lip as his eyes misted over. God, so close to dying, he'd survived through just a whim. 

Anger boiled up at the thought of someone playing with his friend's life, with his own life. His head down, he didn't see the blue eyes open. "Jim?" 

Startled, he focused on the drug-dazed expression. "Hey, Chief. How you doing?" 

"Okay, I guess. Sort of numb, really. My tongue feels fat." 

Reaching over the rail, Jim took his friend's right hand and held it in both his own. "I can imagine. Bet you're scared, too, huh?" 

Eyes closed briefly as he swallowed, his voice sluggish. "Yeah, a little. My head's all fuzzy." 

"Yeah, I know. They had to knock you out during surgery while they repaired the muscles and blood vessels in the arm. The bullet passed through clean though. Missed the bone. There shouldn't be any permanent damage." 

"Yeah? Don't remember much about it. Sort of blurry, you know? Probably better that way." Blair squeezed his hand inside Jim's as he smiled. "Hey, man, you don't look all that good either. You okay?" 

"I'm fine, Chief. I'm not the one who got shot because his partner couldn't protect him." 

A brief flurry of confusion swiftly switched to anger. "Fuck, Jim. Don't even try to play that. I mean, I don't know what's going on, but obviously it's something pretty heavy. Marshall getting killed and then me getting shot. You didn't have any way to know the killer was still there." 

Head bowed, Jim brought Blair's hand to his forehead, taking in the firm bones, the warmth of flowing blood just beneath the skin. After a few moments he focused in on the eyes of the man he held more dear than himself. "It's more complicated than that. I think this is all connected to Yuri somehow. I know the shooter." 

"Yeah? Who?" 

"Back in Peru, Yuri worked alone, but it was rumored he had a partner that he sometimes teamed with when he worked out of Europe, a guy named Khan." 

"Khan?" 

"Yeah. It's his trademark to kill his victims and leave a solid silver medallion imprinted with crossed swords." 

"Medallion? What medallion?" 

"Yuri used two coins, Khan uses this medallion. It was at the Marshall scene. They're connected." 

"Damn. Tag team assassins. Shit." Blair turned his head and nodded at his hand. "You can let go now if you want. I'm not going anywhere." 

"What if I don't want to?" 

"Well, that'd be cool, but I have to warn you that I'm fading here, man. My head's killing me and whatever's in the IV is knocking my ass out, so if you want to hold on, go for it." 

"I think I'd like that, Chief." 

"Good, because right now, my eyes just won't stay open, man." His voice drifted lighter and lighter, his heart beat and breathing slowing to a natural, even rhythm. 

Standing there, watching his friend sleep, he cupped the palm in his and stroked his fingers along the life line, each crease a sensory memory branded. He couldn't imagine ever losing the one man who could save him from being lost, the one person who touched him when no one and nothing else could. Slowly, he leaned over and kissed the forehead lightly, the slightest whisper of a deep moan from Blair's throat punctuating the act. "I love you, Chief." 

Shaking his head, he commanded his own courage front and center, his scarred heart shrinking back. "All I have to do now is say it when you're awake." Suddenly tracking down an assassin with a grudge seemed a hell of a lot easier than telling the truth about his deepest feelings. 

* * *

"Man, I don't want to stay another day. I want to go home." Blair slammed his right hand into the wadded bed clothes to make a stronger point. His voice didn't exactly measure up to a master whine, but it came close to the winner's circle. 

"Settle down. You're going home, just not right away." Trying not to let the ache in his stomach distract him, Jim worked to calm his friend. "Look, this way we can keep a guard on you and the doctor can make sure that there's no shock to worry about. He's just playing it safe." 

"I'm fine, man. I don't understand why he has to keep me here." 

"Blair, come on. You heard him. The shot sent your body into a shock, and it's taking a little longer than we expected to return to normal, that's all. Plus, you're running a fever." 

"That's not all, Jim. He's got me on a whole truckload of antibiotics that I don't even want. You know what that stuff does to my system. You come in with a simple bullet wound and they find all kinds of stuff wrong. I hate this shit." Frustration found its way out with another series of minor punches into the linen. Blair movements halted with a groan as he grabbed his left shoulder. "Shit." 

"Chief, you keep this up and they're going to start knocking you out or restraining you. Will you please just settle down and behave?" Jim's voice stretched tense against the air, the words short punches. "Why didn't you tell me you weren't feeling well the last few days?" 

Blair took a deep breath, his words weak, but steady. "Because I thought I was just tired, man. I mean, I've been a little busy. I swear, I didn't know I had an infection." 

"Didn't you notice a headache or dizziness or anything?" 

"Yeah, well, a little, but I didn't know it was serious, just sinus or something. We live in Cascade, man. It's the natural state to feel run over." 

Shaking his head, Jim straightened out the blanket and smoothed down the edges across his friend's lap. Gently he pushed back Blair's wild hair and wrapped it behind his left ear. The over-heated skin burned his super sensitive fingers, the extra sweat and oil tingling. "Lucky you got shot then. Doctor said you could've gotten really sick if he hadn't caught it with the blood work." 

"Yeah, lucky me." Blair closed his eyes and then opened them to meet Jim's. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to throw a pity party your way." 

"No problem. You deserve to bitch a little bit, considering." 

Blair tilted his head and studied the man still stroking his hair. "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What's going on?" 

"Well, we're still checking into finding out about Khan. I called some of my old contacts, pulled in some favors. I may have more by this afternoon." 

Reaching up with his right hand, he captured Jim's and brought it to his chest. "I'm not talking about Khan. I'm talking about you touching me every chance you get." 

His heart racing, his breathing too thin for his lungs, he tried to speak clearly. "I always touch you, Blair." 

"Not like this, you don't. Ever since I got shot, you've been playing with my hair, holding my hand, rubbing my arm, just touching me. I like it, but I'm a little confused. It feels different from when you used to do it, good, but different." 

"Do you want me to stop?" His breathing waited, his lungs anxious prisoners to fear. 

Squeezing the hand gently, Blair shook his head. "I love when you touch me, man. Always have. You used to do it more often, then you backed off. I thought maybe you picked up on my feelings and started to get uncomfortable. Now, I don't know." 

"Picked up on your feelings? What feelings?" 

"I've loved you for a long time, Jim. Maybe almost from the beginning. I just didn't think you'd ever be open to it." 

"You never asked." 

"Neither did you, man." 

"No, you're right. I didn't." 

"Why is that?" 

"Maybe because I was afraid of the answer." 

"I don't get it." 

"If you said no, I'd lose you. If you said yes, I could still lose you, because I wouldn't know what to do. To be honest, I still don't, but I know I have to do something. The thing with Yuri brought home how much being with you means to me. Now this thing with Khan makes it even more important that we be honest." 

"God, I can't believe this. It takes a bullet to get to the heart of things." 

"I'm sorry, Chief." 

"About the bullet? Don't start. I've told you about that. It's not your fault. What we have to do now is figure out how to get this Khan guy out of our lives, so we can actually start having a life." 

"I'd like that." Staring down at the rounded blue eyes aimed in his direction, Jim lowered the guard rail and then leaned over. His lips captured the heated softness pressing back, a tongue pushing forward, a warm gliding muscle swabbing his throat. A rush of bitter tang grabbed him, the medicine in his friend's system swamping his taste. Pulling back, he petted his guide's head and kissed his forehead. "Sleep, Blair. You need to rest. I'll be back a little later." 

"You better." Blair licked his lips, the picture of the naughty grin and tease. 

"Oh, man, Chief. I can't wait to get you home." 

"To bed?" 

"You better believe it." 

* * *

"So, why the hell would you let in an Ivan Ucinski?" Jim glanced over the visitor's list the guard handed him. 

"He's some guy from Poland. He said that he was a professor or something and that Sandburg knew him." 

"And you took his word for that?" Jim handed back the clipboard and crossed his arms, remembering the name Blair had mentioned. 

"No, sir. Sandburg confirmed he knew OF the guy and told him to come in. He only stayed a few minutes and then left." 

"And this was what, twenty minutes ago?" 

"Yes, sir." The young officer nodded and then paused before he spoke again. "It was strange though." 

"What?" 

"Well, two things really. My grandfather's friend was from Poland and had a real thick accent. This guy Ucinski didn't sound anything like that. The accent was totally different." 

"And the second?" 

"Well, to be honest, this guy looked like he should be in a hospital himself." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, he was super thin like he'd been sick a long time, and his eyes had that far off look people get sometimes." The young man glanced down. "Sorry, Detective, it's just that my brother just died a few months ago, and he had that same look right at the end." 

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother, Davis. Really." 

"Thanks." 

More anxious than ever, Jim pushed open the door to Blair's room. Davis's loss brought home even harder how easily one could lose a loved one. His own fearful ache scratched to enter his heart, wanted to settle there and howl until he listened. He breathed a whole lot easier once he saw his friend sleeping soundly, his heart beat steady. 

Stepping closer, he stood at the side of the bed, just watching, taking in every trace of air current around Blair's head, the heat shimmering near his body. Checking the monitor, he saw the temperature registering at 103.6. Damn. 

Groaning slightly, his legs shifted under the covers, stretching out straight. Blair raised his good hand to rub his head as he struggled to open his eyes. "Hey, man." 

"Hi, Chief. Heard you had a visitor." 

"Yeah, Ivan Ucinski. I couldn't believe it." 

"So, this guy is the real thing, huh?" Jim leaned on the rail, pleased to hear the enthusiasm return to his friend's voice. 

"Sure. He's one of the best known anthropologists around Europe. Anyway, he said he flew in to visit Dr. Marshall, but when he found out what happened, he wanted to see me." 

Another round of warning tones plagued him. "This guy was close to Marshall?" 

"Yeah, Marshall said they'd known each other for years. Must be rough coming all the way from Poland to find his old friend dead." A shudder shook the body as Blair pulled up his covers. "Man, I don't even want to think about it." 

His head fell back against the pillow, a fine sheen of sweat glistening in the light. "It's funny. My arm doesn't hurt much, just throbs a little. Thing is, I really don't feel well." 

"Must be the fever. Want me to get the nurse?" 

"No, I'll just wait. I'm supposed to get something a little later. I'm sorry, Jim. I have to close my eyes or I think I'm going to be sick. The antibiotics always make me want to puke." 

"I know. I remember that." 

"Yeah, I'll bet. Last time, I hurled for days." 

"Just rest. You'll get better as soon as the drugs kick the infection. You're going to be fine." 

"Thanks, man." Blair held Jim's hand, squeezing and then relaxing as he took long slow breaths, his breathing slightly raspy. 

Jim relished openly stroking up and down his partner's arm as the younger man let himself ease back into sleep. Concerned by the persistent fever, the he made a mental note to talk to the doctor about his guide's worsening condition. 

The smell of cigar signaled his captain's arrival outside the door. After a quick scan, he headed outside and welcomed his friend. "Hey, Simon, did you find anything more on those names I gave you?" 

"Nothing on those, but I did find something you might find interesting." Taking Jim's elbow, the larger man guided him down toward the end of the hallway. He handed him a folder while he spoke. "Take a look at that picture and see if you recognize anyone." 

Opening up, he looked down at a black and white grainy photo, probably a surveillance long angle lens through a window. "Jesus, Simon. Where'd you get this?" 

"It was in my mailbox this morning, no address, nothing. Somebody paid off big time, Jim. That's Yuri. It's a pretty good guess the other guy's this Khan. Do you recognize him?" 

"No, but at least it's something." 

"There's no guarantee that it's who we're looking for." 

"True, but my gut says it is. I mean they're embracing, Simon. It's possible they were lovers. If that's the case, it could explain why he's bent on getting Blair." 

Simon scratched and then rubbed the back of his head, the fatigue dragging down his dark features. "Are you suggesting that's because Khan thinks Blair's more than your partner?" 

"Yeah. I mean, it doesn't take any great observation to figure out how important he is to me. If Khan thinks I killed Yuri, he wants to kill someone who means as much to me as Yuri did to him." 

"That makes sense, I guess." A big sigh later, Simon motioned toward the picture. "So, what should we do with that?" 

"We'll need copies. I want everyone on duty to see it and then I want to send it to Mulroney and any other person I can think of. I want to know who this man is." 

"Well, I've already made some copies. I'll get on the phone with the feds and see what else we can get." 

Before turning to walk back to the guard, Jim cleared his throat. "I have to thank you for all this, Simon. The around the clock protection means a lot." 

"Hey, Sandburg's one of our own now, Jim. You're going to have to get used to sharing." 

Grinning, Jim shook his head. "I'm not very good about that, sir, but I'll try." 

"Do that, Jim. Meanwhile, go show the guard the picture." 

Following easy orders, the detective walked up to the young man and handed him the photo. "The dark-haired guy on the right is someone I want you to be on alert for. We think he's the one who shot my partner." 

Davis did a double take. "You're kidding, right?" 

"What?" 

"Detective, I hate to tell you this, but that's the guy who called himself Ucinski. This picture must've been awhile ago though, before he lost all that weight." 

Behind him he heard Simon growl. "Son of a bitch." 

It wasn't the first time Jim agreed with his captain. 

* * *

"Come on, Jim. Don't act crazy. There's no way this can be right. Ucinski's an anthropologist, not an assassin. Jesus. This is like so totally nuts." 

Jim wet his lips, shaking his head as he braced himself for the argument. Even in his weakened condition, his partner could put up a damn good fight. "Listen, Chief. Look at the picture. The blonde's Yuri and the guy with him is Ucinski. You explain it." 

"Hand me my glasses, man. I can't see very well right now. Everything's even more blurry than usual." While Jim got Blair's glasses from the side table, he glanced at the monitor again, noting another slight increase in fever. In fact, all the readings read worse than before. 

"Chief, are you sure this guy you met was the real Ucinski and not some impostor?" 

"Well, he looked like the picture on the back of his books except he did look like he'd been sick or something, so yeah, I think so." After staring at the picture, Blair took off his glasses and put them in his lap. Rubbing his eyes and then his forehead, he groaned. "Man, I'm sorry. I feel like shit here. Are you sure this is the guy who tried to kill me?" 

"I don't know for sure, but yeah, I think so. Look, just lay your head back and close your eyes." 

"Okay." The flush of fevered cheeks clashed with the pallor as Blair sank back into the pillow. 

"Listen, Chief. Can you remember what Ucinski said, anything that might give a lead to what he wants?" 

"He just talked about Marshall and how dying sucked, man. I swear he didn't day anything at all suspicious. Just sort of talked about the importance of friends and how he'd heard so many nice things about me from Dr. Stoddard." A low moan paused his speech before he added. "To tell the truth, I wasn't feeling all that great. Sort of like now." 

"I'm going to get the doctor. You're burning up." 

"Then why am I freezing my ass off, man?" As if to punctuate his condition, Blair shuddered and sank beneath the covers as he pulled them up. "God, I can't believe any of this. How could Ucinski be an assassin?" 

"I don't know. Don't worry about it. I'm not going to let him near you again, that's for sure. I've alerted the FBI as well as the CIA about the possible connection." 

"The government? But you hate the government, man." 

"Sometimes, but if they can help, I'll use that." Stroking the sweat-drenched curls back away from his forehead, Jim gauged the shivers traveling like small waves through his best friend's body. "Just rest. You're going to feel better soon. Just got to kick this nasty bug's ass is all." 

"Somehow, it's my ass that feels seriously kicked, man. Shit." Grabbing his stomach, Blair moaned, the unexpected spasm bringing his knees up as he turned on his right side. "God, what's wrong with me, Jim? Why's it so dark?" 

The heart monitor beeped way too fast and before Jim had a chance to call for the physician, a nurse entered the room. 

"What's going on in here, Mr. Sandburg?" The young blonde came to the side of the bed and placed a tray on the table. She did a quick check of the machines and lines, her face stern, growing even more serious. 

"What's happening, nurse?" 

His question went unanswered as she finished up her cursory exam and then uncapped the syringe and added its contents to his friend's IV. Within just a few moments, Blair relaxed, his eyes still closed, his labored breathing more easy. 

Her blue eyes met Jim's as she motioned him to the doorway. "Detective, I'm going to call Dr. Richards. Your friend isn't responding well to the meds. You can stay in here if you want, but please don't excite him. He really needs to rest. Okay?" 

"Sure, I can do that. Is he going to be all right?" Even as he asked the question, watching her eyes dash away scared him. 

"We're doing everything we can, Detective. We're not sure why he's still got such a high fever." 

Swallowing his own fear, the hard lumps of panic pushed down to his gut, he forced himself to control his words. "When can I see the doctor?" 

She glanced at her watch and back at Blair. "He'll be on his way as soon as I call him. Try not to worry, okay?" 

As she headed out the door past the guard, Jim stepped over to stand and watch his weakening guide, the swirl of shadow and doubt swamping his hope. No matter how hard he tried, the sentinel couldn't cage the savage warriors massing to circle and run around screaming bloody murder in his mind. No way did he want to imagine that killers didn't always need a gun. 

* * *

"How's he doing, Jim?" Simon's worried expression twisted his features into an eerie mask, the dark eyes staring, begging for answers. 

"I don't know, Simon. He's pretty bad. The doctor said the antibiotics don't seem to be working." 

"What the hell kind of infection is it? Does it have to do with being shot?" 

Jim leaned forward on the table, his elbows holding up his weight. He blinked several times to fight off the burning grit that sanded his eyes. "Whatever it is, Blair's had it for awhile and let it go untreated. Anyway, that along with being shot has thrown his body into some kind of major crisis or something. The doctor's changing the medication and all we can do is wait." 

"God, I hate waiting." 

Jim glanced up, appraising the man across the table. Drinking coffee and rubbing the back of his head, Simon turned and stared back. "Don't even say it, Jim. I know I look like shit, but I'm in good company. You look just as bad if not worse." 

"Thanks, Simon." 

"I mean it. Neither of us have slept since this whole thing started. Now, I know I'd be wasting my breath to suggest it, but as your captain and your friend, I'm saying it anyway. You need to go home and get a few hours sleep. You'll think more clearly and maybe we can find Khan and end this nightmare." 

Jim shook his head, his hands gripped together on the table in a double fist. "You're right, Simon. You're wasting your breath." He paused for a moment and then leaned back in the chair. "You know I've been thinking about this and there's some things that really bother me about this case. First of all, I don't know who sent the picture, but the timing sure was convenient. Then, this whole Ucinski thing doesn't make sense. Why come here and see Blair and not do anything, not even a note, nothing?" 

"It's weird, true, but he couldn't have known about the picture. Maybe he thought it was safe. As to why he'd just leave Blair alone, I don't know." The captain's cell phone rang and he answered. "Banks here." 

While Simon took care of business, Jim got up and refilled his coffee cup. When he returned, he found his friend waiting to tell him something. "Jim, Marshall had HIV, plus the bullet they found matches the one that shot Blair." 

"What?" 

"Yeah, Dan, just finished the autopsy and got some of the results back. The guy was positive. Now that we know Ucinski is Khan and he was at the murder scene, it's a pretty sure bet he killed him. Didn't you say Marshall and Ucinski were supposed to be friends?" 

"That's what Blair said, but who knows. Marshall was a slug. Maybe the HIV's connected somehow, maybe not. All I know for sure is I don't want Khan to get a second shot at my partner." 

"Agreed." 

"I'm going back up to the room. Why don't you see if Mulroney or anyone else has an update?" 

"Sure." 

Just as Jim stood up, his own phone rang. "Ellison." 

"Detective Ellison, I think it's time we meet." 

Fear sank a deep bite into his belly, the hold both sharp and icy hot. "Khan?" 

"That's one name. I have others, none of which matter at this point. Come alone to the dam." 

"Why should I?" 

"Because you want answers and you'd like to save your partner. Be there in one hour." 

"Which dam?" 

"You know the place, Detective. It's the place where your government friends killed my partner." The deafening cutoff roared like thunder in a sentinel's ear. 

* * *

Tracking the trail through the wooded area, Jim checked his gun once again. On full alert he scanned the area for both Khan and any other intruder. He'd warned Simon about staying away, but he needed to be sure, needed the assurance of his own witness senses. 

The violent rush of water up ahead reminded him of the earlier conflict with Yuri, but he shut it away. Clarity and alertness fogged with the past only offered distraction he couldn't afford. Focusing became paramount, the most important key to success. The faint heart beat only slightly alerted his hearing, the rhythm irregular and weak. 

At the very end of the trail he went into the wooden arena, the place where he'd fought the man who tried to kill both his friend Micki and his partner. Standing there, he waited, Khan's vitals growing louder as he approached. 

"Glad you followed my instructions, Detective." The voice, medium pitched, spoke just loudly enough to be heard over the water. "Please, take out your gun and throw it over to the side. I don't plan to kill you, but I don't want to worry you might not feel the same inclination." 

Reluctantly, Jim pulled his weapon from his back holster and tossed it, the gun's heavy clunk against wood disheartening. "Now, turn around slowly and sit on the floor, your feet straight out in front and your hands behind your head." 

Again he followed orders, stooping to get into the awkward and vulnerable position. He watched, both concerned and curious, as Khan leaned against the rail, his gun pointed in Jim's direction. Emaciated, the sunken cheeks hollowed out his face. Circled in deep shadow, haunted eyes stared back. A tiny feather of sympathy tickled Jim's heart, but he locked it away, his jaw clenched and twitching as he remembered Blair's blood spilling all over his world. 

"You realize I could kill you now. One bullet straight to the brain." 

"I know that, but you just said you didn't plan to do that. Are you a liar as well as a killer?" 

"I'm both, but I did mean what I said. Actually, when I first heard about Yuri, I thought of nothing else but your death. I spent long hours on the plane over here imagining just that. I envisioned the terror and the tragedy I would inflict first and then a whole catalogue of suffering. Considering my talents, it was really quite impressive, not to mention satisfying. You died very well, I might add." 

The cold tone unnerved his gut, but he kept his voice steady, the tone indifferent. "What changed your mind?" 

"Oh, a lot of things, really. Mainly, I found out you didn't kill Yuri like I thought. That's the only reason you and your lovely young man aren't dead already. By the way, your partner is quite an extraordinary person. Stoddard told me he's brilliant, and even quite ill, he's extremely beautiful. You're lucky." 

Ignoring the inflection, the slightest tilt to the complimentary words, Jim stared intently, his blue eyes lasers. "Why shoot Sandburg? He's not even a police officer." 

"You've no doubt guessed that Yuri and I did more than work together. I would imagine that it's the same for you two. Before I found out the truth about what happened, I couldn't think of anything else but to make you pay. Take your treasure for the precious joy you'd stolen from me. I can't even describe the hate I felt." 

Settling back, his arm slightly lower, Khan continued talking, his voice relaxed. "I loved Yuri. We were together off and on for years. Worked and loved all over the world. Mostly we worked alone, but teamed we were unbeatable." 

"I don't understand. Blair said you're one of the world's most famous anthropologists in your field. How could you be an assassin? It doesn't make any sense." 

Khan crossed his arms around his chest, his gun still gripped, but no longer pointed at Jim. His eyes stared, almost vacant, as though staring at the past. "Have you ever walked in two worlds, Detective? Lived a life so totally different from what others see?" 

"Maybe." 

"Then you might understand what it's like. We all have secrets, things we only share with one other person. That was Yuri, my life, my secret, my most valuable treasure. No one knew about us. He took an academic off the dull track and taught me all the tricks of the trade. Thrilled me in ways I can't even describe. Added color to my black and white life. The glory of it was that I loved both him and the job. It amazed me that I'm very good at killing." 

"You're proud of being a murderer?" 

A sad grin played across the features as the older man ignored the challenging question. "You know Yuri talked about you a lot after he came back from that assignment in Peru. He liked you, thought of you as a worthy adversary. Believe me, Detective, he didn't do that often. You certainly impressed him. I have to agree. You're good. I wish you could've stopped what happened here." 

"I tried to." 

"I know you did, Ellison, or Sandburg and you would already be dead and I'd be on a plane to China, Ucinski back in the field. You're very lucky. I have a man inside who was there. He told me you tried to save Yuri, but a sniper got him in the back, just right over there." He motioned with the gun to the side rail still roped off. As casually as talking about the weather or buying a new suit, he added, "That sniper's dead now." 

The cold exactness of the words chilled Jim's very bones. "I can understand wanting revenge, but the sniper only followed orders." 

"Maybe, but he killed the wrong man. Before I leave, the man who gave the orders will be dead as well. Everyone involved will pay." 

"So, why kill Marshal? What's he got to do with any of this?" 

"Lawrence got greedy. When I first called about Sandburg, he didn't know why I wanted the information. He misunderstood entirely." Khan smiled, his features tight and feral. "Marshall and I often shared the same young men. He'd find them and bring them to me. It was a game we played together many times. He thought that's what I wanted this time and went to your friend, almost spoiled it for me." 

"But that's not why you killed him." 

"No, you're right. There were other, even more important reasons. Actually, I did poor Lawrence a favor. Of course, he didn't see it that way when I blew his miserable head off. Do you want to know why I did that, Detective?" 

"Because he gave you HIV?" 

Surprised, Khan's eyes narrowed with an even more refined appreciation. "Actually, yes. Lawrence and I were lovers off and on for years. Son of a bitch wasn't even sick yet." 

"But you are." 

"Yes. Ironic that it's a virus rather than a bullet, but there you are. Perhaps that's why it was so difficult to go after your partner even when I thought you were responsible for killing mine. Being so close to dying myself, it makes a difference. It's odd really. I never thought I'd care one way or the other about it, but right now, so terribly near it, I can afford to be generous, to let you and your beautiful boy live." 

"But why tell me all this? Why not just leave? 

"Because I wanted to meet you. Because I'm tired. Because I needed to tell the truth. Who knows? I'm not sure why myself. It just seemed important somehow. Now, what I want from you is your assurance that you'll stop this search. You've got a little network at your disposal, Detective. I didn't realize a police officer, even one with your history, could be quite so effective. You've got some very efficient friends running me down and I need them to back off." 

"Leave my partner alone and I'll see what I can do." 

Nodding, satisfied, Khan stood straighter, his gun raised. "I won't ask for your word, since I know a man like you doesn't need to give it. You need to stay here for a least an hour. Then you're free to leave." 

Just as he started to answer, Jim's sensitive ear heard the slide of a rifle bolt. Before he could even call out, the front of Khan's chest blew open, the blood a flood of red across his vision. Each spot of the spray entranced him, drew him deeper past the light, down further into a swirl of fading heat. Time faded into a crimson shrinking into a smooth pale shelter. 

The weight of shaking eventually centered him on a chanting voice. "Jim?" 

After a few moments, his hearing and other senses returning, he wet his lips. "Simon? What happened?" 

"You zoned big time, my friend. Sniper took out Khan and you went out faster than I've ever seen you." 

"How long?" 

"Not that long compared to some you've had. About 30 minutes." 

Glancing over at the buzz of activity around the body, Jim shook his head. "How'd they find us?" 

"Anonymous call, Jim. I kept my word." 

Wearily, the detective smiled as he struggled to stand up, his captain's helpful arm a needed support. "I already knew that, sir." 

"This is such a mess, Jim." 

"With the government involved that's pretty much SOP." Once on his feet, his balance steady, Jim turned to his captain. "What about Blair?" 

"I'm sorry. No change, at least not since you left." 

"At least he's not worse. Come on, Simon. I need to be with him. This thing's not over yet. It won't be until I can take him home." 

"Let's get you out of here, Jim. I told Mulroney you'll be by later to put in a statement. After that little zone out trick of yours, I think he believes you should probably have a bed in the same room as your partner." 

"And he'd be right." He didn't add that he'd rather just be in the same bed holding the man he loved, the man whose very life gave him a reason to keep breathing. 

* * *

Standing at the window, one arm around his middle, one hand at his mouth, Jim watched as the nurse changed Blair's dressing. His partner's still form centered his world while the woman charted details and added more medication to the IV. She left without speaking and Jim settled into the chair beside the bed, resuming his vigil. Vitals signs showed major improvement with the fever diminished, and yet the young man remained unconscious. He hated waiting, abhorred the inner scratching of empty gut, the clawing at his heart. Every tissue in his own body ached from the terrible weight of waiting. 

Leaning forward, Jim rested his forehead on the rail, his eyes shut, his weary mind focused on the steady rhythms of heart beat. Whispering both for himself and his guide, his stubborn throat squeezed the words into the world. "God, I love you, Chief. You're making me crazy here." Resting, he waited some more, knowing full well he'd wait forever. 

A gradual increase in breathing alerted him to the change and he looked up in time to catch the slightest of flutters. "Blair?" 

He said it several times before he finally heard a raspy, "Jim?" 

"Thank god you're awake, Chief. You were starting to really scare me." Standing, he shifted to where he could see the dazed eyes start to focus in on his face, the slightest twinges at the edge of those full lips. 

"Throat hurts." Several short coughs and hard swallows later, a seriously hoarse voice tried speaking again. "What happened?" 

"Don't try to talk too much. You've been out of it awhile." Jim pushed the button to raise the head of the bed and then poured some water. Holding the glass and straw, he held it to Blair's dry mouth. "Here. Drink this. It'll help some. Just not too fast, okay?" 

After a few sips, Blair dropped his head back, eyes closed. "Man, did somebody whip my ass or what?" 

"Or what, Chief. Don't worry about the details right now. You have an infection, but you're doing better. You've only got a little fever. Keep this up and I'll have you home in no time." 

"Oh, yeah, man, home." His tongue caressed the last word, stroking it, making it warm to Jim's ear. 

"Yeah, home." He picked up his partner's hand, rubbing the top, his fingers tracing each of Blair's. Each bone and raised vein signaled heated contact, the skin smooth and dry. He stroked back the dark slick curls around his face, the heated sweat oily against his skin. 

"Sounds good. Can we go right now?" His eyes still closed, his breathing long and even, Blair's soft voice reached only sentinel ears. 

"Soon, Chief. Soon we'll be home and you'll be all mine." 

Jim's soothing pets lulled Blair to a restful sleep, his monitor readings so much closer to normal than before. Taking a deep breath, Jim leaned forward to kiss his guide's hand and then his forehead. As he stood up, he suddenly realized Simon stood in the unguarded doorway watching, a sly smile curling his lips. Stepping inside, his captain crossed his arms and shook his head. "About damn time, man. I guess this means the kid's better." 

"More than better, sir. He's the best." 

"You got that right, Jim. Now, come on. Coffee's on me. Then you're going home to get some rest even if I have to drag your ass there myself." 

Before he could protest, Simon's hand locked on the detective's arm. "I mean it, Jim. I have a feeling once he's awake and moving, you're going to need to keep your strength up." 

"If I'm lucky, that won't be all I keep up, sir." 

"Shut up, Jim. Don't make me crazy.." 

"I mean it, Simon. I've never felt this way before." 

"Damn. I knew Sandburg was contagious." 

"Yeah, and I caught him." 

"Bad?" 

"Real bad, sir." 

Simon continued to maneuver the exhausted detective down the hallway, fighting back his own laughter. "And there's no cure, right?" 

His voice loose, Jim's words stumbled and flopped around, drunk and happy. "For Sandburg fever? Not a chance, sir. Not a chance." 

"Well, just keep it to yourself then." 

"Hell, I plan to, Simon. Forever." 

* * *

"Oh, man, Jim. Enough already." Blair pushed away the glass as he sagged back into the corner of the couch, pulling the covers up around him. "I can't take anymore, man. I'm going to puke." 

"Wouldn't be the first time, Chief. You've got to finish all this stuff. Doctor's orders." 

Wobbling his head back and forth as he mouthed doctor's orders in a pantomime of Jim's last words, Blair crossed his right arm protectively over his sling, his whole body stiff and defiant. 

"Okay, go ahead, Sandburg, make fun. You want your ass back in the hospital, just skip the pills and then you can pop this shit through an IV. Then again, maybe you prefer needles." 

"Fuck you. This sucks." 

His voice suddenly softer, Jim settled beside his best friend, a hand on his knee. "I know. I know it's a major pain in the ass. I do, but I'm just doing what the doctor told us to do. Why do you always have to fight it so hard when you know you have to take all this until you're well?" 

His petulance fading, Blair let his head rest on the back of the sofa. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean to be so harsh. It's just frustrating. I should feel better by now and I still feel so damn tired all the time and this arm deal is a real problem. I'm right-handed, but I still can't type or get comfortable." 

"I'm sorry, but you know it's the pills making you so sleepy." 

"Me, too, man. I don't mean to bitch all the time." 

Sighing deeply, Jim smiled as he held out his arms. "Want to try to get comfortable here for a minute?" 

Tilting his head, his grumpiness diffused, Blair gingerly resituated himself in his partner's strong embrace. Drawing him closer, Jim brought the right arm in close to his chest while the injured one stayed nestled against Blair. Resting his head lightly on top of his guide's curls, he relished the rich heat radiating through his shirt to his skin, the rapture of warmth capturing his greedy heart. He wanted to hold his guide forever, to keep him safe and always connected. 

"God, that feels so good, man. I love when you hold me." 

"Yeah? Well, I love holding you, so I guess we're even." 

After a brief pause, Blair whispered, "It's hard to believe this is real, Jim. I've dreamed about it, but now that it's happening, I'm a little afraid." 

Stilled by the words, confused, Jim braved the next few questions. "Afraid? Why?" 

"A lot of reasons, but I guess mainly because I never really thought it could happen. I mean, I know I've been attracted to men, but it never occurred to me that you might be. Being gay isn't easy, man. Trust me on this. Even admitting to being bisexual's risky, especially for a cop. What's Simon going to think?" 

The slight chuckle shook Jim's body and Blair sat up and away. "What?" 

"Simon knows, Chief." 

"He does?" Baffled, Blair's face twisted in confusion. "Really? Like when did that happen?" 

"Settle back down here." Gently easing Blair back into his arms, Jim spoke, his voice husky. "He caught me kissing you in the hospital. It was right after your fever broke. He's okay with it, really. In fact, he said he couldn't figure out what the hell took me so long." 

"Well, I always knew Simon was cooler than the polar breezes, man." 

"Yeah, he is." 

"So, Jim, you were kissing me?" 

"Yeah, Blair. You were so gorgeous, I couldn't help myself." 

"Why don't I remember that? Damn, I sleep through all the good parts." The slightest whine provoked another laugh from Jim. 

"Well, now that you're getting healthy again, I'll try to make sure you're awake whenever I decide you need kissing." 

"And other things?" 

"Oh, yeah. Definitely other things, Chief. Just not yet. Doctor said you weren't to do anything too strenuous until he cleared you." 

"Damn doctors don't know everything, man." 

"You saying you're ready to take me on right now, Sandburg?" 

Rubbing his head into Jim's chest, Blair words sounded drowsy. "No. I guess not. I'm a little out of it, I'll admit. Besides, when we do get around to those other things, I want to be able to truly enjoy the whole deal. Right now, I just want you to hold me, man. I love this. Who would've believed you'd be into snuggling?" 

Tenderly, careful of his partner's sore arm, he massaged up and down his back. "Should I be insulted? Why wouldn't I like to snuggle?" 

"Jim, man, no insult. I think it's great. See how preconceived notions rot the brain? Never again, man. I'm open to any and all possibilities." 

Kissing the top of his guide's head, Jim whispered, "You always were. Who else would've believe in me like you did? Nobody. You've blessed my life." 

"I thought you were the blessed protector." 

"As far as I'm concerned, it goes both ways. I love you, Blair. I can't even tell you how scared I was of losing you. I would've done anything to save you, to save myself." Long even rubs soothed the younger man, his breathing slowing down, his body relaxing more against Jim's. 

"I know, Jim. And I love you, too. Forever." 

After a few quiet moments, Jim hushed voice teased his guide's ear. "You need to go to bed. You're falling out on me here." 

"I know, man. Sorry. Can't keep my eyes open." 

"It's okay. Finish your medicine and then let me help you up to bed." 

His voice sleepy, his lids half closed, Blair nodded. "Sure. Hand the stuff here. Might as well get it over with. Stuff tastes nasty." 

After downing the capsules, the smaller man made it to his feet using Jim's arm for support. "Jim?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Would you mind lying down with me for a few minutes? I mean, I know you've got stuff to do, but..." 

"No problem, Chief. I want to." Stopping for just a moment, Jim cupped Blair's chin and lifted his head. Carefully leaning down, his lips captured pure velvet heat. His tongue lightly teased the parted lips, but didn't probe deeper. He pulled back and caressed the slightly whiskered cheek. "I love you, Blair. Now, let's go to bed, Babe. Want to?" 

"God, you just wait, Jim. Wanting to doesn't even come close to how I'm feeling." 

"Oh, I doubt that, Chief. Coming sounds just about right." He guided Blair toward the stairway, a smug grin plastered on his face. 

Blair started up the stairs, gripping Jim's arm, his eyes sleepy, but his mouth playful. "Man, you are like so bad. God, I love you." 

"Now, I know it's been a long time, but can't you snuggle in beds, too, Chief?" 

"Snuggle, smuggle, I plan to invent new verbs, Jim. You just wait. This is going to be great." 

"It already is." 

Reaching the bed, Blair sat down and used one foot to push off a shoe before doing the same to the other sneaker. As he started to lean back, Jim placed a hand on his back. "Hold it right there, Chief. You planning to sleep with all your clothes on?" 

Glancing down at himself, Blair shrugged. "Man, I was so tired, I didn't really think about it. Maybe I'll take it off later." 

"Here, let me do it." Jim unbuttoned the flannel shirt and then very carefully helped his partner lift and remove the sling so he could slip the shirt off the arm. Then just as gingerly, he efficiently took off the V-neck T-shirt. The upper part of Blair's hairy chest peeked out of the tank he still wore. 

Focused on the task, Jim still realized his guide's constant tracking of his progress, those blue eyes watching every move, the pupils more dilated. When he touched the top button of the jeans, Blair's breathing hitched as his heart beat raced. "Chief? You okay with this?" 

"Absolutely, man. You make a fucking fantastic nurse. Just keep going. I just hope you can get that zipper down over that unsightly bulge down there." 

Almost on cue, the heat from the growing erection tingled sentinel fingertips. "God, Chief, it's alive." 

"Hell, yes. Just too damn tired to do much. Sad, but not permanent, thank god." Closing his eyes, his head leaning back just a little, Blair balanced himself with his uninjured arm. "It just feels so good to have you touch me." 

Kneeling down between parted thighs, Jim cupped the back of Blair's head and pulled him forward. He kissed him hard and deep, his tongue invading with a vital passion that exploded and expanded his very blood. While sucking and filling his guide's delicious mouth, he unzipped and stopped long enough to whisper, "Lift your hips just a little, Babe." 

Doing as commanded, the jeans came off. Jim's mouth stopped devouring Blair's as he stood and then eased his partner back against the fluffed pillows. Lying there in tank and boxers, his arm bandaged, made for the most beautiful picture--his guide alive and in his bed. "God, Chief, you're so gorgeous." 

"Thanks. Now, why don't you strip down and show your wares, Jim? I confess, buff makes me crazy." 

"You're already crazy, Sandburg. Is it safe to push the limits?" 

"Strip, Jim. I want to see you now that you're mine, now that I'm not just looking through the window." 

The sweater peeled off, the belt unbuckled, and then Jim stopped. "Looking through the window? What window?" 

"You know, man, like when you're a kid and you go by and see something you want, but know you can never have it. The train at Christmas? The chemistry set for your birthday? I never thought I could ever have you, but now I do. I can still hardly believe it." 

Nodding, comprehension sinking in, Jim proceeded to bare his body down to his plaid boxers. Climbing in beside his partner, he shifted them both cautiously so that they lay embracing under the sheets. Taking in a deep breath, he noted the strong musky scent of arousal still flooding the air around him. "You still horny, Chief?" 

"Always, man, especially with you around." 

Rubbing his hands along his chest, pausing and stroking the nipples through the thin soft cloth, Jim nuzzled his guide's neck. His words danced breathy and sweet. "I could touch you. I'd like to." 

Shaking his head, snuggling in closer, he relaxed and leaned further into the strong arms. "I'd like that, too, thanks, but I want our first time to be special. I can't really do much, and I know you said you don't mind, but I do. I want to be able to show you how much I care." 

"You do that all the time. You're here." 

"Thanks, man." 

After a few moments, the man in his arms grew more and more drowsy. "Blair?" 

"Yeah?" The word barely staggered out between the lips. 

"If I get you a chemistry set for you birthday, do you promise not to blow up the loft?" 

Chuckling, Blair rubbed his head harder against Jim. "Actually I plan to be blowing you, man." 

"Now, Chief, that's a naughty thing to say." A Jim smile curled contented lips. "How about a train for Christmas? Would you let me play with your switches?" 

"Sure, and my engine, too, if you want." 

"Actually, I'm more a caboose, man myself." 

"Then you're my kind of man, Jim." 

Laughing together, Jim cuddled even closer, the easy banter adding strength to a bond already incredibly strong. "Now settle down, Babe. Relax and just let me hold you." 

"Not a hard thing to do, man. 'Night." 

"Goodnight, Chief. Close your eyes now." 

"Already closed." The words dripped slumber, each letter a mere ghost of the one before it. Soft breathing feathered his chest, the warm breath fluttering and touching his skin. He drifted in a salty sea of Blair scents, faint spices and teas. The wispy touches of heat sizzled and energized his reason, his thinking magnified to giant meanings. He closed his eyes, drinking in the center of design, his sentinel purpose focused and real. Holding the man he loved, Jim Ellison discovered his one true treasure. 

* * *

the end

 


End file.
